The Assassin’s Thief
by sphinx81
Summary: She swore she would never marry. Yet the most interesting oaths we break are the ones we demand of ourselves. Ezio/Rosa, Assassin's Creed II


She swore she would _never_ marry.

The Thieves Guild loved her more than any man ever could. And Antonio was a father in all but blood. Since that fateful day of her bungled attempt to pick-pocket him, he kept his promises. Raising her as his own, he loved her as a daughter. Teaching her all he knew of their craft, he gave little regard to the supposed limitations of her sex.

She refused abandon any of them for a flight of fancy. Especially for some lavishly robed, arrogant roof-jumper with a charming smile and even more seductive way with words. So what if he moved with cat-like ease across their heads? Or that those smoldering dark eyes seem to see right through her? As though he was worth signing away her life to the mundane existence of nobility.

But he never asked that of her.

No, he only smirked when she cursed and railed at him as he carried her through the streets. The arrow ripping through her thigh made her wish the archers put her permanently out of her misery. The pain was nothing like she'd experienced. Not even the occasional fall from the pathways above did it any justice. Yet he never ordered her to calm down. Never insisted she act in a more ladylike fashion. Refused to abandon her or her thieves as they struggled to escape the deadly wrath of the city guard.

So she found the insatiable need to scale ever upwards in search of freedom from the prison of the streets below. What of it?

But he never demanded she change.

As she mended, he visited her almost daily. Her shabby little room on third floor of the Thieves Guild didn't put him off in the slightest. Eventually, she had to begrudgingly admit she looked forward to him swinging into her window from the balcony above. Despite that tall frame and those broad shoulders, he always entered soundlessly. Even got the drop on her once in a while, almost causing her to jump out of her skin as he perched himself at the foot of her bed. Though he always found it amusing, he quickly made his amends.

He brought her little gifts of honey drenched lemon cakes rolled in hazelnuts. Or small earthen pots planted with an array of various flowers. None of them ever died on account of her obsessive pruning and repotting. In fact, they would all come with her to Monteriggioni, the first plants of her garden. In her heart, she knew they would see many generations of Auditores come into their own.

Once, he even brought her blood red thrush that sung at dawn and dusk, with the coming and going of the sun. While she found it utterly charming, she couldn't bear to see the magnificent little creature caged. Its proud black eyes and sleek, crimson feathers had no place locked away for her fleeting pleasure. After it sung its song welcoming the third morning of its captivity, she opened the wooden bars. Whispering a blessing of protection, she dreamily watched as it flew from her window. Upon his arrival a few hours later, she claimed it escaped after she accidentally left the cage door open. Judging by his smirk, he didn't believe one word of it.

But he never questioned her.

She should have known he was interested in more than her apparently pretty face. Or maybe from the very beginning, she _did_ know it. Denial is always its strongest in the face of mounting evidence to the contrary. Especially when it went against all that one swore to oneself. Yet it knocked the wind right out of her when he proposed the first time.

It was nearly five years after they first met, just after his assassination of Silvio Barbarigo and Dante Marco. As the sun set over the Grand Canal, they sat perched on a rooftop in the shadow of the Ducal Palace. Such was their usual way, before she went on her nightly rounds of pick-pocketing and he undertook his darker deeds for Lorenzo di Medici back in Florence. But something was amiss, she could feel it in her bones. Mostly, he was quiet, contemplative in his conversation.

As the stars began their sparkling ascent across the purple sky above, she felt him slip something cool and smooth into her hand. It was a small oval pendant of gold, strung through with a finely wrought chain. Within its center was a brilliantly cut ruby. Flipping it over revealed the House Auditore coat-of-arms, delicately engraved on its back.

He'd given her his engagement seal.

The words fell from her mouth before she could even think.

_I am no noblewoman, nor do I seek to be. _

_I know you too well to ever ask that of you. All I wish is your hand- _

_The mother of your children would be a common thief. _

_And their father, an Assassin and fugitive. What of it?_

She didn't know what was more true. That she was unwilling to give herself over to another. Or simply afraid to.

She denied him all the same.

Silently slipping away across the rooftops, he didn't take his seal. Even though she swore it burned her to the touch, she snatched it up and quickly made her back to her quarters. Weeping in secret that night, no one knew any of it. Not even Antonio. In turn, within mere days, he left for Rome. His excuse was unshakable, hinting at nothing that passed between them; the Spaniard was at it again, his ship to Cyprus had to be traced, his plot against the common people of Venice far too dangerous to ignore.

Yet he wrote her. Dry letters detailing his investigations, month by month. But she saw beneath their consistency, read between the lines of what he did not say. As time pushed forward, it was as though she couldn't live without them.

But he never forsook her.

Two long years later, he returned to Venice. Soon after and with little tolerance to continue their strange, mesmerizing charade of shifting passions, he asked her to be his wife a second time. She didn't have to think twice.

_Yes, I will._ They were the only words he craved. In turn, the only ones she willingly surrendered.

Well, that and the cargo manifest for the ship bound for Cyprus she gleefully managed to swipe a few days later. She was infinitely pleased to make his birthday a bit brighter.

The first wedding was a large affair, though no one but the dregs of society attended it. And neither of them would have it any other way. From the thieves, to the mercenaries, to the courtesans, to even a few of the troubadours, the streets Venice roared in celebration with the union of Assassin and Thief. There were rumors that even the Doge himself attended, though in secret. No doubt in repayment for her husband's permanent end to his corrupt brother. She didn't know if it were true, for she never saw Agostino Barbarigo. Then again, it wasn't as though she remembered much of that night anyway; the wine, food and revelers made it all one ecstatic blur of merriment. Some even said Carnivale barely rivaled it.

Though they were to make their home in a modest villa in Venice, they would take their summers in Monteriggioni. She loved Venice too much leave it completely. He was too loyal to his tenants in Monteriggioni to completely abandon them. Another reason for her love, his devotion to those who needed him most.

The journey from Venice to Monteriggioni for a second wedding was long. Thankfully, they rode ahead with a rather grand pack of Thieves. Their wagon of belongings remained under guard by Mercenaries some days behind them. The now-famous Leonardo da Vinci was in tow as well, breathlessly taking in everything with his usual beguiled excitement, his sketchbook brimming with new pages of inspiration. Astounded by the beauty of the Tuscan countryside, she could see why he held it so close in his heart.

As they dismounted at the gates of the stronghold, she found her nerves beginning to fray. Though no one but him could tell. Would his mother take to her son marrying some common gutter snipe? Would his sister look down her nose at her, her marriage to one of the powerful Sforzas of Milan the ideal in everyone else's eyes?

But he never doubted her.

She was profoundly relieved to be proven wrong. His Uncle Mario was a large, bellowing, warm man. Containing a fantastic, if filthy sense of humor, she gladly soon find out. With no pretense, he lifted her off her feet and swung her around in greeting. _"Nipote!"_ he declared, slapping his nephew on his shoulder after he set her down, "You've outdone yourself immeasurably! Welcome to Monteriggioni, _Signora_ Rosa!" he bowed, placing a hand over his heart. "My home is your home, my people, yours." While Maria Auditore obviously still wore the affects of the tragedy that struck them over a decade ago, she was polite, if mildly distant. However, the third night after their arrival, she pulled the new bride to her side. Blessing each of her cheeks with a kiss, she murmured, "You have made him happy, so I ask for no more. The House Auditore bids you welcome. May you be blessed."

Thankfully, she blinked back her tears at the last moment. Seeing her in such a state as she climbed into bed later that night, he shook his head with confusion. Despite his obvious charm and blatant appreciation for those of her sex, he never pretended to be completely privy to the waxing and waning of the female humors. Simply, he pulled her into his arms, languidly pressed his mouth to hers and proceeded to make love to her under the moonlight streaming through their window.

His sister proved the opposite of the mother, more like the uncle in many ways. Her husband, the youngest brother of the Duke of Milan and related to the Orsinis on his mother's side, seemed the laconic anchor to her rambunctious nature. While he was unfailingly courteous, his wife heartily embraced her sister-in-law from the onset. "Brother!" she chuckled, "So what did you bribe her with to get her to marry you? Did he drug you, then? For no woman on earth could possibly put up with him otherwise. He's quite terrible, you know?"

Flashing a bright smile as her brother regarded her with practiced jibing, she grabbed her by the hand and promptly led her to the study on the first floor of the villa. Sitting her down, she patiently spent the next few hours going over the ledger and records of the Monteriggioni's income and interests.

"My husband has promised that we shall stay for a month to celebrate the wedding. Then we journey to Florence to visit his family," Claudia breathlessly said at the end of the day. "If you need me to clarify any of this," she waved at the ledger, "Don't be afraid to ask, _capisci?"_ From then on, they were inseparable. She quickly learned of her husband's penchant for pranks at the amused expense of her sister. And their unyielding bond that only siblings could comprehend. Yet he always made it resoundingly clear his wife came first.

She freely wore the Auditore seal clasped about her neck. For many, who were fools, it was a collar of ownership.

But he never would allow it to be such.

She swore she would _never_ marry.

But that was all before Rosa, Queen of the Thieves, met her beloved Assassin, Ezio Auditore.

So yes, she swore she would never marry…anyone but _him_.


End file.
